Street Walker
by LoveIsATemple
Summary: It was supposed to be an easy case. By the book. Simple. Then they could all go home, relax. Pray tomorrow didn't prove to be a different story. But it wasn't easy, and now he has her. And Dov can't breathe.
1. Instinct

**A/N:** I've never written for Rookie Blue before, but it is probably in my top five favourite TV shows and I have seen every single episode multiple times (I am not kidding - I am obsessed). Hopefully this alone will give you faith in my writing. This is a story with Chloe and Dov because I love them, and they don't get enough love on here. Also, this is set months after the season 6 finale (which I am still praying was not _the_ finale).

There will be four parts, three of which are already written including this one. I will update once a week on Fridays probably this early in the morning before I leave for work. I am not a police officer. What I know about police work comes from Rookie Blue and the Internet.

 **DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING.**

I hope you enjoy!

* * *

 _"Tell me where you go,_

 _Tell me where you walk_

 _Without moving at all."_

 _St. Walker | Young The Giant (Young The Giant)_

* * *

 **Part One | Instinct**

15 Division is quiet tonight. The city is asleep. All of the criminals in Toronto have decided to give the police department a break, and Dov is waiting to do the same, heading out of the men's locker room and into the middle of the station wearing his gym clothes. He holds in his hands his sweat-soaked uniform sealed away in a plastic cleaners bag, ready to be delivered on his way home to the nearest dry cleaners.

The day has been slow—nothing more than one-half of a jewellery robbing team caught within hours of the holdup with a few diamonds on him and a couple of drunks bathing in the humidity. It is rare the streets are so calm, especially when Dov recalls the heat reached a record high during the afternoon, but he can hardly complain. He is a detective, he faces death and destruction almost daily. He needs his time off just like everybody else.

With his gym bag slung over his shoulder and the plastic bag rustling in his arms, Dov walks to where Chris is tapping away at a computer, phone pressed between his shoulder and ear. From what he can make out, Dov deduces Chris is talking to Denise about spending some time with Christian over the weekend. By the time he reaches the desks, sparsely occupied by men and women in uniform, Chris is hanging up the phone wearing a smile on his face.

"Hey, man." Chris greets him with the type of chipper warmth Dov is steadily getting used to again. "I'm gonna have to cancel on our plans this weekend. Denise needs me to watch Christian."

Dov jerks his head in approval and moves his mouth into a half-smile. "I understand. Chloe wanted to see a movie on Saturday anyway, so now I can tell her I'm free." Dropping the right side of his face, Dov glances around the station. "Speaking of which, have you seen her?"

"Who, Chloe?"

"Yeah," Dov responds loosely, still focused on the surrounding area. "Isn't she supposed to be filing paperwork?"

Chris begins to look around too, tilting his head up to gain a better view of the main floor. "Yeah, she and Andy are the ones who apprehended the jewellery guy. She should be buried in paperwork at the moment."

He is a good detective, and like a good detective Dov's belly roils when even the most inconsequential thing is not in its right place. His stomach muscles clench automatically and a wave of nausea he has come to associate with the beginnings of an adrenaline spike billows over him. He knows he should not jump to conclusions, but he also knows to doubt everything his eyes see and trust what his gut says.

Dov spots Andy walking slowly through the hallway, hands in her hair as she ties it in a messy style atop her head. She smiles when she reaches him, but he can't find it in himself to smile back.

"Andy, have you seen Chloe?" he asks, hoping he sounds merely curious and not worried.

"Um." Andy squints and looks up at the ceiling, then she looks at him, shrugging. "Not since we booked the shoplifter a couple of hours ago. Isn't she somewhere dealing with the paperwork?"

"I thought maybe she'd be doing that with you," Dov says, crossing his arms. His detective brain is taking over, and maybe Andy can tell because she immediately straightens and loses the last hints of her forgotten smile.

Andy shakes her head. "No," she stresses, frowning. "I—I went with her to get the forms, but she said she needed something from the locker room not too long after we grabbed them." She bites her lip and looks back and forth between Dov's hard eyes. "She didn't come back."

As she says these words, as Dov's world begins spinning and his dinner from just a few moments ago threatens to rise in his throat, Gail, Traci, and Duncan come into the open room, all dressed for home. Desperately, Dov hurries to them, blocking their path.

"Have you any of you seen Chloe since we got back from arresting the perp?"

His eyes must be wide and sweat must be beading on his skin, because Gail scoffs, teeth bright against her deep red lipstick. "She's probably dolling herself for your big date night," she says disinterestedly. "God, she wouldn't _shut up_ about how _romantic_ and _wonderful_ it was going to be. _Gag_ ," she finishes, sticking her tongue out and directing her pointer finger toward her mouth.

Traci nudges Gail and looks up at Dov. "Why do you ask, Dov?"

"Be—Because," he stutters, running a sweaty hand through his wet hair, "we, well, we had plans. We were going to go home. Relax, maybe watch a movie or something. But I can't find her." Dov steps back. "I can't find her."

Fear runs through his veins like some kind of drug. They have yet to search the precinct, but something is wrong with the situation. Chloe may be scatterbrained, but she has learned since Dov became detective to always tell him when she goes somewhere. She wouldn't leave the building without informing him.

"Ha," Gail sparks, snapping Dov out of his worry-induced spiral. " _That_ was the special night you guys had planned?" She gives him a look of pity, and not for the first time he wants to yell at Gail to shut up. "You're thirty-one, Dov. I know most people think that's reason enough to start being a boring old grandpa-type, but you've got some good years left in you. Don't waste them on staying in and watching Netflix."

"Peck, be quiet."

Dov blinks. He said nothing. Raising his eyes, Dov watches Oliver striding over to them, white shirt glaring like the sun in the overhead lights. He steps in front of Dov, his signature Oliver smile lifting the corners of his thin mouth.

"Epstein," he says, somehow able to sense the growing unease in the room. Dov notices the people working at the computers have all stopped tapping at the keyboards. Some have stood up. Chris has joined them in the centre of the room—Dov can see his large boots behind him. "Dov," Oliver says, his tone begging for the young detective's attention, "what's going on?"

Dov frantically looks around, hoping to spot Chloe somewhere in the vicinity, but all he sees are concerned faces staring at him. "I can't find Chloe," he rasps. "No one can find her."

"No one can find her?" Oliver looks at the group, eyebrows perked. "Have we searched the station for her? Asked everyone?"

Shaking his head, Dov holds up his hands. "No, but"—

—"Dov," Oliver sighs, rolling his neck, "we can't assume she's missing. She's probably hiding somewhere."

Dov shakes his head again. His hair falls in his face. " _No_ , Oliver, she's gone. I can feel it."

"You can feel it. Wonderful." Shaw exhales and drops his head briefly. Picking himself back up, he grabs ahold of Dov's shoulders and stares him straight in the eyes. "Epstein, I'm gonna need you to retrace your steps, okay?" he says, loud and slow enough that Dov is reminded of how he speaks to witnesses at crime scenes. The ones too scattered and scared to think straight. "Chris," he says, peeking beyond Dov, "go with McNally and search the building. All rooms." He returns his attention to Dov. "Buddy, hey, let's retrace those steps, okay? Where did you last see Chloe?"

"I haven't lost my cell phone, Oliver," Dov chastises, extracting himself from the Staff Sergeant's grip. "I don't think going through every single step I've taken since we returned from the bust will help. I came back to the barn separately. I haven't even seen her since we were at the crime scene."

Scenarios that manage to twist his intestines begin tumbling through his foggy mind. Blindly, Dov reaches into his bag and pulls out his inhaler. He uncaps it, fits it in his mouth, and presses the release.

Through the haze forming in his head and the ringing in his ears, Dov hears footsteps racing, growing louder as they reach where he and Oliver are standing. "Dov," he hears someone say, loudly. Andy. He turns, watching her face crease with worry. He can feel his own heart ricocheting around in his chest. It sounds hollow, empty. "You need to come see this," she says, pulling him by the arm before he gets the opportunity to respond.

Andy drags him into the women's locker room and up to Chris who is crouched on the floor, picking something up with a pen.

"Recognise this?" Chris lifts the pen to show Dov a charm bracelet spattered with blood.

Dov nearly collapses to the ground. The only thing stopping him from falling are Andy's hands.

He does recognise it. Chris does too. It's the bracelet he gave Chloe two weeks ago for their anniversary. Skimming the room, Dov spots a pool of blood by Chloe's locker. It is deep red. It is soaking into the concrete, dribbling across the floor as if pulled by some supernatural force to Dov's feet.

The world has cut off. Dov imagines this is how a television feels during a blackout. He cannot hear anything but buzzing, see anything but shapes and faded colours. He is floating above the world, a spirit condemned to purgatory.

Oliver joins them in the locker room. He shouts orders, he shakes Dov. Swarek comes in too, followed by a few more officers.

"Diaz, get Epstein out of here," Swarek yells, shoving his thumb behind him. Dov watches him turn his attention to his wife. "McNally," he says, more calm now, "go with them. Talk to him, try to get something, anything, out of him that could help us track Price down."

Chris takes him away from the locker room—from the crime scene. From the last place his girlfriend was before somebody decided to attack her and abduct her. His best friend guides him into the lounge, his notebook already out, and tells him to sit down somewhere, anywhere. Andy is with them. Her notebook is out as well. They are talking to him quietly, but he can barely understand the words falling from their lips. All he can focus on are the horrific images of Chloe, scared and alone and bleeding, swimming inside of his head.

* * *

 **A/N:** What did everyone think? Feel free to review giving me your predictions for the story.

Until next Friday,

LoveIsATemple


	2. Clues

_"Just tell me where you are,_

 _Tell me where you love_

 _Without leaving at all,_

 _And I'll go."_

* * *

 **Part Two | Clues**

The station is no longer quiet. They have lost one of their own, everyone is humming with electricity trying to search for clues. There was a footprint in the blood, a trail leading out of the building. The other Ds suspect she was caught off guard, struck on the back of the head from behind, and that is why there appears to be no sign of a struggle.

Dov has seen her blood before. Just two days ago while she was cooking something in their apartment, Chloe sliced her finger on the serrated edge of a tin can lid. Red covered the kitchen, as did the many expletives spilling from her mouth. He had bandaged her up, kissed her wounded skin, until she finally cracked a smile.

He is not there now to soothe her, and it kills him. It is killing him, slowly, not knowing where she is, and it is killing him, quickly and without trepidation, that they are nowhere near close to finding her. They are supposed to be police officers, detectives, special forces. Why have they not been able to find clues yet? Why is she still out there, wounded and missing?

Chris has kept him far away from the madness, but he can hear Oliver screaming to the other officers every now and again, his shaking voice reverberating around the entire station. He has already broken the news to Frank who is on his way down. Dov wonders if he should phone Nick. Chloe and him are still close. The soldier would probably want to know his best friend has been abducted.

Making up his mind, Dov pulls out his mobile phone and finds Nick's name in his list of contacts. It rings a few times before a groggy voice picks up.

"Dov?"

"Uh, yeah, hey Nick," Dov pants, his voice trembling. "How is everything in Vancouver?"

He does not low why he is opening with that. He doesn't care about Vancouver. But the alternative is ruining Nick's night, is being forced to explain the whole story for the umpteenth time since she disappeared, and he will do whatever it takes to stall for just a few more seconds.

Nick laughs quietly. "It's good. My turn to wake up and feed the baby. Jules is sleeping like a rock in the other room."

"Good, good. How is the little guy?" _Stalling. Stalling. Stalling._

"Did you really call me at three in the morning to ask about my life? I saw you three weeks ago. Not much has changed."

Dov contemplates saying yes, and then hanging up, but Nick deserves to know. He loves Chloe like a sister. He needs to know.

"Um, no. No, no I didn't. Look, Nick, Chloe was attacked earlier tonight in the station after her shift. She's gone—gone missing." Dov coughs. His throat is tightening and he can't have that. He's supposed to be strong right now so he can help if he is needed.

The young police detective can hear Nick's sharp intake of hollow breath. He only hopes the man does not drop his child.

"Is she okay?" Nick asks.

Dov wants to shout _no! of course she isn't okay. She's been taken. She's bleeding. She's probably dead_. But he refrains.

"Um, we really don't know. I mean, they might, but I don't. No one's really telling me anything. She was hit before whoever it was took her. Her blood is everywhere in the women's locker room." He whispers the last part. Not intentionally, but because he cannot bring himself to say it any louder.

"You need to help find her, Dov," Nick almost begs. Grown men should not beg, but Dov has found himself begging a God he doesn't even know if he believes in to make sure the love of his life is okay, so he can forgive Nick for doing the same. "You're an amazing detective. They could use your help."

Ha. Nick talks as if he suspects Dov hasn't already tried that line.

"I can't. I'm personally connected."

"Screw personal connection. Go find her. Bring her home."

For the wildest reason he does not even begin to analyse, Dov can think in this moment only of the musical Chloe dragged him to a few months ago. _Les Miserables_. He had been forced to read Victor Hugo's novel in high school and since then had refused to ever see any adaptation, but Chloe has doe eyes and she knows how to use them. "Bring him home" is the only line from the musical he remembers, sung in such desperation and agony that it practically pierced Dov's soul.

A quiet cry interrupts his thoughts and then Nick is saying he needs to go, the baby has awoken. Dov shoves his phone away and begins to pace the lounge, stopping short when he notices Sam and Traci walking quickly toward him.

"We've found something," Sam says. "I need you to come with me."

 **—**

He and Sam are at a house. Dov doesn't know why. Sam didn't talk to him on the ride over.

When the detective first approached him and told him to follow him, Dov thought for sure they had found Chloe's dead body floating in some pond, but then Swarek drove him to a random house.

"Why are we here?" he asks as his boots clonk on the wooden floor.

Swarek is hunched over a picture frame, flashlight in hand. He tilts his head up momentarily to frown at Dov before returning his attention to the object on the small table by the door. "Because," he says, picking up the frame and turning it over, "our jewellery thief had a partner."

Swarek does this. He says things and expects your mind to understand, to put the tiny, jagged pieces he gives you together. But either Dov is not very smart, or Swarek really does make no sense, because the poor detective is confused.

"What does that mean?" Dov is getting angry. He is getting tired and frustrated, and he is worried out of his mind. " _Swarek_ ," he barks when the senior officer does not acknowledge his question. Sam abandons the picture frame to Dov's fleeting satisfaction. "What does that _mean_?"

Swarek clicks his tongue. He does that too. Andy has said before that the habit annoys her, that it makes her feel as though her husband doesn't care, and Dov agrees.

"Look, kid, an officer saw a guy matching the partner's description entering the station. I don't know how he got to the women's locker room if the officer is correct, but it's a lead worth following. This is his place."

A lead worth following. Code for _it's our only lead_.

Dov is sweating through his gym clothes. He is technically off duty, but Oliver told him not to worry about that, he'll take care of it, so he is doing his best to ignore how naked he feels in a suspect's home without his gun. Deciding standing around is doing nothing to calm him, Dov takes a few steps forward, completely alert. Then, he stops. The board beneath his right foot feels as though it is getting ready to snap under his weight. There is a gentle creak that echoes through the room. He removes his foot, eyes locked on Swarek, who has abandoned the picture to see what Dov has found.

"This board isn't supported by anything. It's hollow," Dov says, crouching down. His adrenaline is pumping. "Find me something to wedge it open."

Sam goes into the kitchen. Dov hears him opening and closing drawers. Silverware clinks objects together, making ringing noises that hurt Dov's ears. He already has a headache. A migraine. He does not need this too.

Swarek returns seconds later with a large screwdriver and a hammer. He hands them off to Dov, who takes both and wedges the screwdriver in the crack of the floorboard. Firmly holding the hammer, he whacks the smooth end against the back of the screwdriver until there is a considerable amount of space between boards. Chucking the screwdriver to the side, Dov flips the hammer, placing the claw beneath the thin wooden plank. He pulls and pulls, holding his breath, until the slate finally gives way.

On the other side of him, Sam lifts the board quickly. He throws it across the room before pointing his flashlight over the hole they have just made in the ground.

Dov peeks down, afraid something may jump out at him. He has been on edge since he came off shift, but now is the time to truly be wary. Inside the hollow gap Dov spots a box. He glances at Swarek hastily with his eyebrows raised. When his superior nods, Dov sinks his hands into the floor and pulls the box out.

"Careful," Swarek warns, "you don't know what could be inside there. It could be booby trapped."

Heeding Sam's words, Dov cautiously grabs the lock holding the metal box's lid in place. "Should I just smash it?" he asks, adrenaline pumping through his blood. He is shaking, badly, but he tenses every muscle to hide the fact.

"Yeah. No point in wasting time looking for a key. We've got a warrant."

Nodding, Dov takes the hammer in his free hand, releases the lock, and bangs it as hard as he can until it breaks. Sitting back, the young detective inhales a deep breath. He wishes momentarily he had thought to bring his inhaler. Once his mind is partially clear—as clear as it will get while the love of his life is missing—Dov slowly opens the lid. Its hinges creak, and the two detectives peer inside, their lungs frozen.

Dov hears Swarek's gasp, but it sounds as though it is coming from a crackly speaker miles away. It is broken and disjointed. A loud hum rings through his ears as he stares blankly at the contents of the box.

In the background, Dov registers Swarek talking into his walkie.

"Dov," he hears the older man say. " _Epstein_ ," he says next, grabbing Dov's shoulder.

Hazily, Dov catches Sam's eyes.

"Epstein, backup is on its way," the man says. "This is good. This will help us find her."

Staring down at the pictures scattered in the box, Dov can think only thing: Earlier, at the jewellery store where they found the gorgeous, shaken woman who was working that day standing in a pile of broken glass, they hadn't interrupt a robbery.

They had interrupted an attempted kidnapping.


End file.
